“And you’re not afraid of death anymore?” “Oh, madam!” the child cried out, and her face shone with joy. “Death is the most wonderful thing in the world.” A cold shiver ran up my back. All of sudden I didn’t feel quite so snug in this autumnal park.
Hi, Julia, skinhead girl with a twisted smile, given to mild swearing. You saunter out, look your public over with that sneer of yours, hands in your pockets, clenched in tight fists. There’s just you and an audience, Julia, and who’s to say they are all on your side? You smirk, put on that husky voice, close your eyes in the spotlight, strike that guitar and sing about getting drunk on Saturday nights.